


The Principle of Like to Like

by GatewayGirl



Series: Sex Magic [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, Sex Magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-04-28
Updated: 2004-04-28
Packaged: 2017-12-04 15:15:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/712176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GatewayGirl/pseuds/GatewayGirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the Dark Mark interacts with Harry's scar, a transference spell can do more than originally intended.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Principle of Like to Like

**Author's Note:**

> Although this doesn't have much healing in it, this story was originally written for the Pornish Pixies Healing Challenge, which had a 1000-word limit. I did this 1500-word version afterwards. Thanks to Marks for the beta.

Dumbledore's death cost them dearly. Hermione researched, as she always did in times of trouble. She brought to Shacklebolt anything the defenders of Hogwarts might be able to use, but to Harry anything she found on curse scars, oath marks, or other marks of binding. When Hermione found a spell to transfer an oath mark from one person to another, Harry didn't ask why her research now included sex magic. He read the spell carefully, and took the information to Snape.

He had expected surprise and curiosity, but Snape knew the spell. He pointed out it only _transferred_ an Oath Mark, and only to a willing recipient. Harry had to remind him of Bill's outburst -- that it was a pity they could not dupe Voldemort into giving Harry the Dark Mark -- before Snape understood that this was an offer. 

He had neither gleefully accepted nor told Harry he was a fool.

"I will study it." His words slithered like dark snakes. "Tell no one."

 

Now Harry sat in Snape's rooms -- not his office, but his private rooms, as austere and cheerless as the man himself, but cleaner -- listening to Snape's conclusions.

"As you recall, Bill thought that with the Mark on you, the Dark Lord's power would build between it and your scar -- power sufficient to destroy him when you forced it back."

"Right."

"This is flawed. Long before you attained that level of power, it would consume you."

"Oh." Harry sighed. "Hell."

Snape's black eyes glittered; his lip curled in pride. _"I_ have improved on the theory."

Harry straightened. "Oh?" 

"This transfer is difficult to complete; that is part of why the receiver must be willing. If you send the Mark back to me as I send it into you, I believe we can build up a power loop between us. We know your scar is a link to his power. As the Mark is also his, it should draw more of that power on every loop. Once you regain all that went into his reincarnation, he should die." 

Harry tried to keep a surge of triumph in check. "What happens to us, then?"

"When you feel him dying -- or when you cannot endure more -- you must accept the transfer and use the power completely. That will bar him from reclaiming it; it may also keep you from being consumed." 

"Bonus." 

Harry thought Snape's mouth may have quirked slightly. 

"Very well." Snape stood. "I don't expect you'd desire me whatever I do, so let's just get it done."

Harry hadn't expected that. He had procrastinated investigating the sexual details. As the receiver, he would need to be penetrated, and the spell recommended vigor. He swallowed and nodded, not trusting himself to speak. 

Snape gestured to a door. "The bedroom is there." He glanced back at Harry. "Have you ever ...?"

Harry didn't know if he meant buggery or sex in general, but his experience of the latter was so perfunctory as to hardly count. "No."

"A difficult first time."

Harry managed to shrug. "Could be worse," he said bravely. 

A bitter smile twisted on Snape's face. "It can _always_ be worse."

 

It could be much worse, Harry reflected, as Snape eased a slicked finger into his arse. He had expected rougher treatment. Snape, though not gracious, was at least trying to be physically gentle. Even so, that first penetration burned, more would be needed, and relaxing for this was harder than for Occlumency. Harry thought relaxing might be easier if he wasn't looking up at _Snape,_ but he needed to focus on the Mark, which, Snape had noted, he could hardly do with his face pressed into the pillow.

When they had first reached the bed, Snape had given him a little knife, and told Harry to draw blood over the Dark Mark. It had been easy, in a way. The hated _Morsmordre_ had overwhelmed his awareness of skin, or a person beneath -- the challenge had been to keep the cut shallow. Snape had coaxed himself to hardness with efficient pulls, while Harry tried to neither watch nor look away, and they had used the blood to paint a copy of the Dark Mark on Snape's cock. Harry was glad his former professor had prepared himself without assistance-- it had been unnerving enough to take the thin brush and add the writhing snake to the skull Snape painted. Throughout it all, he could not forget that this blood Mark was drawn to dissolve inside him. Harry had a vague sense that this would be inadvisable in the Muggle world -- that for reasons beyond propriety, fine lines stroked in another man's blood should not be thrust up inside him -- but not why. 

The gentle assault of Snape's fingers continued. At three, Harry gave up. That turned out to be the key, because suddenly the burn was residual rather than active, and Snape was murmuring "yes," and Harry closed his eyes and tried to keep the feeling right _there,_ even when the fingers withdrew, and fabric rustled. In seconds, something larger and more solid pushed at his entrance. He almost panicked and tensed, but then the head of Snape's cock made pressed inside him, bearing the Mark of blood, and the magic began. He still felt the physical intrusion ( _larger, yes, but smoother, not bad_ ), but now the dark energy of the _Morsmordre_ was entering his soul, and that, while also frightening, was a familiar sensation and one he was prepared for. Rather than repelling the energy, he drew it to his scar, formed it into a dark snake, and sent the head of it back into Snape's arm. The serpent grabbed its tail in its teeth.

The first return was as slow as the push of Snape's cock. ( _Oh -- now he's in. That's much better._) The darkness continued, sliding through him and out. At the next return, Harry caught a touch of snakelike confusion.

"How are you doing?" The question was cautious. 

_Can't he feel it? Oh -- he means the sex._

"Fine. Move more." 

The first thrusts were shallow and still slow, but they agitated the snake. At each touch to Harry's scar it demanded more power, but more power only sent it faster in its endless circuit. When Snape's cock pushed deeper and met _something_ , and sensation exploded in Harry's brain and released animal cries of surprise and pleasure, he nearly lost the dark coil.

"Status?"

"Nearly dropped it. Startled. Got it now. Do that again."

The answering chuckle surprised Harry almost as much as the pleasure, but Snape did it again. And again. Now Harry used pleasure to pull the snake into him and to push it out again, and the power built up like a slow roll of thunder, deep and full and dangerous. The snake's speed was ecstatic now, not angry; he could take more of it, more....

A flicker of another's fear, and he _knew._ His heart was pounding beyond its limits and they had been felt. Harry concentrated on the coils of power racing through his soul, and took more, _more_...

"YES!"

Snape was fucking him wildly, now, his dirty hair transformed into a glorious cloud of musky darkness. The snake was as big and as strong and as taut as Harry could hold. He tore its mouth from its tail and hurled it out for the only thing he could imagine might use that much power. 

 

Wet lines divided the front of his body. After a delirious moment of thinking that the snake had torn him open, Harry realized the wetness was slick and white. He had lost the force of his bodily climax somewhere in the ecstasy of the spell. Snape withdrew, and his spent, softening cock slipped easily out of the hole it had pushed so hard to enter.

Harry felt the slide of wet flesh, but his mind was preoccupied with seeking outwards from his scar. Nothing. 

"He's gone." Harry, drained and sated, sank back into the bed. He watched Snape stroke a finger down his forearm, now uniformly pale, then felt him do the same down Harry's own arm. 

"Perhaps." A ghost of hope crossed the grim face. 

The touch of skin on skin was bliss; Harry tugged him down for more. 

"Is this afterglow?"

"From these spells, I suspect it goes beyond that."

The reply was cautious. Harry slid his lips along a pale neck until the man on top of him released a shaky sigh. _Ah. That was what I wanted. That little surrender._

"I'll stop feeling like I love you, then?"

"Most likely." Teeth nipped at his ear. "If you just succeeded in resurrecting your idiot godfather, you had better hope so."

Harry smiled at the light cut. Sirius would scream. Sirius would be brash, and belligerent, and impossible to ignore -- and Snape wasn't even angry. Harry rubbed his cheek along Snape's tight shoulder. "Oops."

"Is that all you can say for yourself?"

"Uh-huh."


End file.
